
BIRD ECHOES 

SONGS OF THE WILDWOOD 

ALICE CROCKER WAITE 





Class _ZSs4.''^i_ 
CopightN°_I9in- - 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



JilRD ECHOES 



^IRD ECHOES 

SONGS OF THE WILDWOOD 

BY 

cALICE CROCKER WAITE 




^^T]et^mnKp^ 



BOSTON 
RICHARD G. BADGER 

1907 



Copyright 1907 by" Alice C'^Vaite 
All Rights Reserved 



ILIHKARY fit CONGRESS? 

I Two CoDies Received ;• 



JUN 24 1 30/ I 

LASi CL XXc, No, 

f ^0 / 10 

COPY 8. 



■pS3545 



T^A^ Gorham Press, Boston 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

The Dreamer 9 

fFhen Cherry Trees Bloom . ... 10 

The Meadow Lark ....•• 1 1 

The Bobolink 12 

TheHauntsof the Scarlet Tanager . • 13 

The Bird's Twilight Hour . . • • 1 4 

Buckwheat ^4 

A Spring Morning ^5 

The Deer 15 

Lines to a Cloud I" 

The Sign of Rain l6 

The Bluebird I? 

A January Storm 1° 

Snowbirds ^9 

The Sandpipers 1 9 

The Whip-Poor- Will 20 

The Quail 20 

The Bluebird of Spring 21 

The Bluebird's Nest 21 

The Phebe Bird in Spring .... 22 

Bittersweet 22 

The American Starling 23 



The Wild Bird's Bath 

The Heralding of Spring 

The Nettle's Complaint 

My Dove 

Quail and Partridge 

The Meadow Lark 

The Red- Winged Blackbird 

Baby Song 

The Stormy Petrel 

Rejoice, Spring Has Come 

Hunting Song 

The Fairies 

A Lullaby . 

The Chipmunk at Home 

A Thought Message 

The Old Apple Tree 

The Chickadee 

The Dragon-Flies' Dance 

Butterflies 

The Quail's Nest 

Wild Strawberries 

Yellow Violets 

Barn Swallows . 

The Winds Awoke 

The Daffodil 

The Falling of the Snow 

The November Scene . 

The Fall Rain . 

In the Hours of the Dawn 

The Lonely Peach Tree 



23 
24 
24 
25 

25 
26 

27 
27 
28 
28 
29 
30 
30 
31 
31 
32 

33 
33 
34 
34 
35 
35 
36 
36 
37 
37 
38 
38 
39 
39 



PAGB 

The Old Mill 40 

The Bobolink 41 

The Wildwood Idyl 42 

Idle Hours on the River 43 

Birds of the Marshes 44 

The Squirrel's Thoroughfare .... 46 

The Meadow Lark 47 

Cherish the Wild Birds 48 

The Winter Home of the Blue jay ... 49 

Among the Grasses 50 

The Swallows Fly South 51 

In a Summer Haunt of the Birds ... 52 

An Early March Day 53 

The Wild Birds' Storm Shelters ... 54 

Echo 55 

The Dragon Fly 56 

The Second Dawn 57 

Light, Love, Life 58 

A Twilight Hour on the River ... 59 

The Voice of the Winds 60 

Whip-Poor-Will-Song 61 

My Botany Friends 62 

To the Pessimist 63 

In Sylvan Haunts 64 

High Noon 65 

Beside the River 66 

Autumn's Lament 67 

Maple Leaves 67 

Squirrel Corn 68 

How She Loves and Lingers .... 69 



PAOB 

The North Wind ...... 69 

The Cuckoo 7^ 

The Harvest Time of Leaves . ' . . . 'JO 

The Swing "J I 

The Molian Harp 72 

The Myth of the Bluebird 73 

The Ring Plover 74 

The Quail of the Wheat Fields ... 74 

The Hangbirds' Nest 75 

The Oriole 76 

To My Friend the Toad 76 

The Flight of the Song Birds .... 77 

A Sylvan Nymph 7^ 

Song of the Scythe 78 

Twilight Hour 79 

The Empty Nest 80 

Wildwood Haunts 80 

The Black-Capped Titmouse . . . . 81 

The Clover Fields 82 

An April Day 83 

October Days 84 

The Brook's 'Journey to the Sea ... 85 

Migration of the Goldfinch .... 86 



BIRD ECHOES 
SONGS OF THE fVILDWOOD 



THE DREAMER 

To hear,— yet not to hear, 
The clamor of the street. 
The tramp of hurrying feet, 
The idle laughing talk 
Along the crowded walk; 
To hear, yet not to hear:— 

A dreamer. 
Lost in the forest glade. 
Wandering through vernal shade 
In coolness of bowers deep. 
Where sparkling waters leap 
In rippling wavelets cool 
Down to a crystal pool; 
Where wild birds take their bath 
Hidden from woodland path, 
And sweetly, blithely sing 
Beside the mossy spring; 
Here white violets hide 
Along its fragrant side, 
Here elves do run unseen 
Among the tender green. 
Opening the budding spray 
Before the dreamer's way. 

To see, — yet not to see. 
The spread of houses tall. 
The sun-dried grimy wall, 
The waving, pulsing heat, 
Bare pavement of the street; 
To see, — yet not to see: — 



A dreamer, 
Lost on the sunny hills, 
Wandering beside the rills. 
Where shepherd near shady rock 
Watches his fleecy flock, 
Wafting sylvan strains 
Across the flowering plains, 
O'er drowsy, hazy field. 
Where flaming lilies yield 
Sweets to roving butterfly, 
To golden bees passing by; 
Here drowsy locusts sing 
With palpitating wing, 
Here aerial nymphs inspire 
The zephyr's trembling lyre, 
Sighing through grassy spray 
Along the Dreamer's way. 



WHEN CHERRY TREES BLOOM 

White with bloom are the cherry trees tall. 

Among the floweret rain 

The robins wing again. 
Build and sing, while the pale petals fall. 

The orioles in flight 

Flash bars of golden light; 
Among the bridal trees they gaily call. 

Oh, the wild bee has come; 

The flowering trees hum 
Like wakened hives till even shadows fall. 



10 



THE MEADOW-LARK 

Oh, the joyful, joyful bird life! 

In the meadows 

Of the morn. 
Bright the sunlight rosy glowing, 
Through the flowery spray that's blowing 
When the south wind softly passes, 
Treading o'er the jeweled grasses, 
While the meadow-lark up winging 
High in air, o'er mate is singing 

In the mead, 

When day is born. 

Oh, the blissful, blissful bird life! 

In the meadows 

Of the morn. 
All the buttercups a-gleaming, 
Dewdrops on each rim a-beaming. 
Stilly dragon-fly is clinging 
To the slender reed a-swinging 
While the meadow-lark, love-trilling, 
Overflows his cup, joy filling. 

In the mead, 

When day is born. 

Oh, the lyric, lyric bird life! 

In the meadows 

Of the morn. 
See the daisies, how they glisten! 
Petaled stars that ope to listen 
To the trancing trills uplifting 
High above the fragrance drifting, 
While the meadow-lark, down winging. 
To his sombre mate is singing 

In the mead, 

When day is born. 

I I :■' ■'^' 



THE BOBOLINK 

Oh, the happy, happy birdtime 

At the dawning 

Of the morning, 
All the clovers wake to blushing 

To the flood of joyous rune. 
Zephyrs veering toss the grasses 
Into waves of endless ripples, 
Sir Bobolink a-tinkling 

To love mate his bubbling tune. 

Oh, the merry, merry birdtime 

At the dawning 

Of the morning, 
All the daisies ope to twinkling 

To the light of sunny June. 
All the starry grasses waving, 
Timothy plumes a-nodding, 
Sir Bobolink, down winging 

To love mate in nesting bloom. 

Oh, the trancing, trancing birdtime, 

At the dawning 

Of the morning. 
All the buttercups a-gleaming. 

Molten tears from banished moon, 
Weeping dewdrops on the flowers 
Flash to rainbow tints ere fading. 
Sir Bobolink gay trilling 

To love mate his nuptial tune. 



12 



THE HAUNTS OF THE SCARLET TAN ACER 

Where the wild rush of waters flash o'er the mossy 

boulders, 
Where the cool misty waters gush down the rocky 

way, 
Where the tall hemlocks croon, within the whis- 
pering cafion. 
'Tis here I love to dream throughout a summer's 

day, 
Oft I watch the scarlet tanager, winging through 

leafy thicket 
Glowing bright as crimson flower that haunts the 

rocky way. 
Oft I hear his love mate calling, among the piney 

branches, 
A-lisping, lisping low, amid the resinous spray. 

Scarlet bird of the forest wild, 

Haunting the deepest shade. 
Glowing bright as cardinal flower, 

That blooms in ferny glade. — 
Quivering flame with jetblack wings 

Trilling his soulful lay, 
Radiant beside modest mate 

Her plumage, — olive gray. 

Scarlet bird of the forest wild, 

Nest hidden in silvery birch 
Twined to the topmost swaying limb 

Safe from the spoiler's search, 
Blessed bird, with a loving mate 

Rearing a tender brood, 
Mong the waves of shimmering green, 

Happy life in solitude. 
13 



THE BIRDS' TWILIGHT HOUR 

At even hour I seek the forest wood, 
To brood among its leafy solitude; 
Listening to the evening prelude, 
Ethereal warblings of the hermit-thrush 
To dream and muse. 

While twilight tints the rose to dusky hue, 
I hear the 'cello song of vesper thrush 
Repeating oft her golden melody, 
Soft, dreamy pauses mid the fluting notes 
That rise and fall. 

Quivering shadows flit throughout the wood, 
As pewee voices plaint to solitude, 

Pe-a-wee, Pe-a-wee, " wafts the languid strain, 
" Pe-a-wee, Pe-a-wee," it singeth long 
Its pensive song. 

Now, dreamy silence holds the wildwood glen, 
Save wood dove's "coo" from nesting tree. 
Wakened, near his tender mated love 
A-nesting 'mong the breeze-rocked branches near, 
Now doubly dear. 

BUCKWHEAT 

Oh, the fields of blossoming buckwheat. 
Blooming white as new-fallen snow. 
Refreshing cool, in the noonday heat. 
The tender stalks and flowerlets meet. 
Swaying and bending low. 
Beneath its weight of blossoming snow. 



14 



A SPRING MORNING 

Sweet the breath of the spring, 
Sweet the song robins sing, 

Winging through bloom of orchards, 
Warm the sprinkle of rain, 
Drenching the new-sown grain 

Among the fresh-turned furrows. 

Soft the wandering breeze, 
Stirring the opening leaves, 

High in the crimson maples. 
Brightly the sunbeams pass, 
Caressing the rain-splashed grass, 

Drying the violet meadows. 

Vanished the ice and snow, 
Gaily the rivulets flow. 

Winding through buttercup meadows. 
Oh, blissful the April day. 
Enticing the rural way. 

Come! let's roam the fields together. 

THE DEER 

Down the wooded hills 

Come the gentle deer 

With no thought of fear. 
Down the rockworn trail 

To the river's brink 

They pause to drink. 
Nibbling at tender fern 

Leaf and moss 

Ere they swim across. 



LINES TO A CLOUD 

Cumulus cloud of the sunset west, — 

Roseate isle of a golden sea, — 
Losing my burden of wild unrest, 

Oh, to thy bosom so calm I would flee! 

Oh, could I dream on thy billows so fair, 
Lifted above the earth's foliage green, 

Thrilled by the kiss of the radiant air. 

Floating through space as thou floatest serene! 

Oh, to look down on the blue iris flower. 

Keen to earth's beauty while gliding on high! 

Careless, unheeding the swift speeding hour, 

Swept by the breeze through the bright sunset 
sky! 

Cumulus cloud of a golden sea! 

Could I but flee to thy billowy rest, 
Rocked by the breezes that whisper to me 

Tranquil I'd rest on thy peace-giving breast. 



THE SIGN OF RAIN 

Over the hazy ridge, the billowy clouds pile high. 
Trailing wavering shadows over fields of rippling 

rye. 
Softly the poplars sing, turning silvery leaves to 

the cloud-flaked sky, 
Softly the poplars sing, whispering of the coming 

rain. 



i6 



THE BLUEBIRD 

Joyous bird of springtime, 
Ye cometh when the winds blow bleak and raw, 
When banks of snow are kissed with mist and thaw 

Ye come from southern clime. 

Bird of heaven's own hue. 
Ye waiteth not for frail flowers of spring, 
Ye waiteth not for other birds to sing. 

But first to flash in view. 

Bird with the rosy breast. 
In stormy air or in sun's golden light 
Ye trill a song in your northern flight, 

A song that's ever "blessed." 

Ignore not the twittering of a sparrow. 
Even if thou hast heard the song of meadow- 
lark as she arose. 
Ignore not the timid pathway flower, 
Even if thou hast seen the blushing glow of the 
rose. 

For there is hidden light and beauty, 

In the tiniest bud and flower, 
For there is hidden love and sweetness, 

In the sprinkling of a shower. 
Discern ye not the lowliest bud and floweret small 
Have sparks of God's own essence within them all ? 



17 



A JANUARY STORM 

In gathering gloom the cattle low, 
And snifF the coming storm of night; 

While raging winds sweep sifting snow 
In clouds, like sheeted sprites. 

Sullen winds whirl gray twigs and branches 

Off from storm-tossed trees; 
While an oriole's nest, snow laden, 

Rocks in the fitful breeze. 

A nighthawk lost in the blinding storm, 

Seeks shelter in drifts of leaves 
By ivy cot, where icicles hang 

GHstening cold, from snowy eaves. 

Sheep bells tinkle on the wintry air, 
As a shepherd pens and feeds his fold. 

Ere he seeks a cozy cottage hearth 
Safe from the biting cold. 

Buried in snow lies the old stone wall 
Down by the willow-fringed stream; 

Fast, fast falls the snow over the earth, 
Birds and flowers are but a dream. 



i8 



SNOWBIRDS 

White-breasted snowbirds, 

Whirling around, 
Like a flurry of snowflakes, 

Down to the ground. 
Bright, chirping snowbirds 

Seeking a meal, 
From the fields above the snow, 

In the stubblefield. 

Twittering snowbirds, 

Are you not cold, 
Fluttering over snowdrifts. 

When winds sweep bold ? 
Brave little snowbirds, 

God cares for you. 
Through the dark, wintry days. 

Or when skies are blue. 



THE SANDPIPERS 

Blue, blue the sky, 
Blue, blue the sea, 

White the sails on the line between, 
Up and down, 
Up and down, 

Along the shingles brown. 
The sandpipers ran 
O'er the cool beach sand, 

Calling, " pee-wee, pee-wee, pee-wee. 



19 



THE WHIP-POOR-WILL 

When the sun sinks to rosy rest 
Behind yon purpling hill, 
'Tis then we hear the whip-poor-will 
In the brake by the water mill: 
Whip-poor-will! 

Whip-poor-will! 
Calling, caUing, calling to his mate. 

Night shadows steal swiftly down, 
The lambs are at rest, — 'tis late; 
Oh listen! where the lilies bloom, 
Don't you hear, so clear, its mate ? 
Whip-poor-will! 

Whip-poor-will! 
Calling, calling, caUing to her mate. 

Night moths flutter 'mid the leaves, 
Crickets chirp in the meadows; 
The firefly twinkles to and fro. 
Now the whip-poor-wills call together, 
Whip-poor-will! 

Whip-poor-will! 
Calling, calling, calling to each other. 

THE QUAIL 

By the moss covered rail, 

In billowy golden grain, 
I hear the whistle of the quail 

CaUing, caUing for rain, — 
More, more wet! more, more wet! 

More wet! more yet! 



20 



THE BLUEBIRD OF SPRING 

Again, the bluebird 'round my cottage door, 

Its ethereal warblings are heard once more, 
Through flowering orchard, it doth outpour. 

Its springtime melody that all might hear. 
Its bright azure plumage to me is dear, 

I know 'twas tinted near Elysium shore, 
Wings burnished by aerial wanderings o'er, 

Brest aflame, from rosy clouds, winging here. 

Inspired by thy warblings I sing of thee. 

By thy sweet melody the wildwoods wake. 
Calling sleepy wood-dryad from budding tree, 

Calling tender ferns to partake 
Of April's sunshine, April's showers, 
'Til thy song vibrates throughout the hours. 
Waking all the fragrant springtime flowers. 



THE BLUEBIRD'S NEST 

Dear heart! I discovered in secret quest 
Where the timid bluebird has built her nest; 
In a woodpecker's hole 
In an apple tree bole, — 
*Tis a place you would never guess. 

Safely hidden her nestlings three 
Beneath the bloom of the old apple tree; 
From the mossy trunk she flew 
A warbling sprite in blue, — 
Dear heart, for food for her little ones three. 



21 



THE PHEBE BIRD IN SPRING 

The water drips from the mossy eaves 
In jewel drops on last year's leaves; 
The earth is wrapped in a vale of mist, 
And through this gauze of amethyst 
Comes the phebe's note, so clear, so sweet, 
The call of the phebe bird: 
" Phebe! Phebe! Phebe!" 

The sun is shedding its rosy glow 
On tufts of Crocuses, white as snow. 
That bloom by the old stone wall, 
And from the woods by the waterfall 
We faintly hear, so clear, so sweet, 
The call of the phebe bird: 
" Phebe! Phebe! Phebe!" 

The breath of violets most rare 
Is wafted on the gentle air, 
While from each mead and ferny dell 
Comes a plaintive note like a silver bell. 
So piercing fine, so clear, so sweet, 
The call of the phebe bird: 
" Phebe! Phebe! Phebe!" 



BITTERSWEET 

In the woodland hills, where sings the thrush, 

The bittersweet thrives over tree and brush; 

Around swaying limbs the festoons run, 

Opening their shells in the autumn sun; 

In the orange pod lies the scarlet seed 

To tempt the wild bird from common weed. 



22 



THE AMERICAN STARLING 
(red-winged blackbird) 

Sing to me, starling, the daylight is breaking, 
Aflooding the earth with a radiant light; 

The tall pines are crooning a lullaby wooing. 

The pale moon is waning with the shadows of 
night. 

Sing to me, starling, from thy nest o'er the waters, 
From thy nest in the willows hidden away; 

The dew sparkles bright o'er the lush waving 
grasses. 
The wild rose is blushing in the sun's ardent ray. 

Sing to me, starling, from thy home near the waters, 
The stream murmurs on through a blossoming 
way. 

Oh, carol thy love, the joys and the treasures. 
Of thy downy ones safe in their cradle of hay. 

THE WILD BIRD'S BATH 

Swinging, swinging, in the rain 
From spray of dripping flower 

Fluttering, stretching the wing. 
In the downpour of the shower. 

Swinging, swinging, in the rain. 
Swaying in rain-drenched bower, 

Oh, wild bright bird, thou art free 
To bathe in the rainbow shower. 



23 



THE HERALDING OF SPRING 

The robin flew to the sap-running limb, 
High in the sugar-maple tree, 

Blithely caroling, o'er and o'er — 
Spring is here. Spring is here! 

The woodpecker crept 'round the mossy trunk, 

Tip-tapping in resounding glee. 
Tip-tap, tip-a-tap, tap; tip-tap! 

Drumming that Spring is here! 

The high-hole flashed his glittering wings 
Across the fresh-swollen stream. 

Merrily calling, o'er and o'er — 
Spring is here! Spring is here! 



THE NETTLE'S COMPLAINT 

The honey bee seeks the clover field, 

To the honeysuckle sails the bumble bee, 
Honey nee ar they freely yield, — 
But none seek me. 

The humming bird woos the lily cup. 

Locusts sing to the flowery lea. 
Where butterflies lightly kiss and sup, — 
But none woo me. 



24 



MY DOVE 

My dove comes flying hoirjc 

From out the west, — 
My silver-crested dove, 

To her nest, 
My w^hite-winged dove, 

The ever blest. 
Oh, the cooing and the wooing 

Of my dove! 
Of the ruby-throated dove, 

Softly cooing to his love, 
Coo, coo, coo! 

Swiftly home comes my dove 

To her nest, 
Swift to cover snowy eggs 

With loving breast, 
Swift to her haven, — 

To her rest. 
Oh, the cooing and the wooing 

Of my dove. 
Of the ruby-throated dove 

Softly cooing to his love, 
Goo, coo, coo! 
Oh, the Cooing and the wooing, 

Of my dove. 

QUAIL AND PARTRIDGE 

Now flown the languid, dreamy summer, 
The golden grains are in the shock. 

No more love call of partridge drummer, 
The quail and grouse begin to flock. 



25 



THE MEADOW LARK 

A feathered sprite 

At dawning light 
Flew to a flowering limb; — 

From a limpid pool 

Of waters cool, 
A bath at the reedy rim. 

A hidden nest, 

Near dewy cress. 
Four eggs in the grassy glim; — 

A liquid note 

In air afloat, 
Joys trilled in morning hymn. 

Hark, hark, to the lark. 

High, high, in the sky, 

'Tis the sweetest note 

In the air afloat, 

Sweet, sweet, as the honey-bee, 

The bags of the bee, to me. 

Ye birds with song from heaven caught, 

Ye sing the glad refrain; 
Ye brooks with song by nature taught 

Ye sing the minor strain. 



26 



THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD 

At rosy dawn, in blossom time 
Through flowering grasses I go, 

Down slowly to the murmuring brook. 
Where alders and willows bend low 

Over banks blue with violets — 
As the sky were reflected below. 

Here in the cool limpid waters 

Flashing minnows leap in play 
Between the stones where turtles crawl. 

To sleep in the sun's flaming ray. 
Here flock the red-winged blackbirds. 

Flitting through alder and willow spray. 
Building their nests o'er the waters. 
Joyfully singing their morning lay — 
Chee, chee, wee! 

Chee, chee, wee! 
Chee wee, Chee wee, Chee wee! 

Oh, the music sent afloat 
From the blackbirds' throat 
When they sing of their love 
In carols of glee! 

BABY SONG 

Reaping time, swinging scythe, 
Little pheasants in the rye; 
Cherry time, — berries free, 
Little robins in the tree; 
Sleepy time, — hushaby! 
Close at mother's breast to lie 



27 



THE STORMY PETREL 

Skim, skim, o'er the storm-tossed sea 
Beat your wing in the briny deep, 

Dive, dive, in the trough of the sea. 
Naught care if fisher-wives weep. 

Ride, ride, o'er the curUng wave. 
Wash your wings in feathery foam; 

Dip, dip, o'er the sailor's grave, 
Naught care for desolate home. 

Sail, sail, where the strewn wrecks lie, 
With webbed feet cleave the brine; 

Weet, weet, wafts your eerie cry, — 
No note is so sad as thine. 



REJOICE, SPRING HAS COME 

A-wing the wild geese honk and cry, 
In northern flight through misty sky: 
Spring has come. 

White violets bloom by the brooklet's sidr 
The elusive scent is wafted wide: 
Spring has come. 

Frail anemones rise from leaflets' care. 
Gently swaying in raptured air: 
Spring has come. 

A purpling haze veils the distant hills, 
A rosy haze o'er swampy rills: 
Spring has come. 



28 



HUNTING SONG 

Hark! to the call 

Of the hunting horn, 
To bugle call 

That salutes the dawn; 
Startling the meadow lark in air, 
Startling partridge in maiden-hair. 

Let us haste away! 

The morning dew 
Twinkles bright o'er flower and spray; 
Away! — the songs of wildwood birds 
Are greeting the dawn of the day. 

Hark! In full cry 

On air is borne 
The bay of hound. 

With note of horn — 
Startling the fox from leafy lair 
Startling the doe and timid hare. 

Let us haste away! 

The morning breeze 
Ripples the pool where lilies blow. 
Away! with pack of restless hounds 
We'll ride through the vales below. 



29 



THE FAIRIES 

I seek, I seek, for the dancing Fay, 
I find him not in wildwood glen, 
I find him not in mossy fen, 

I seek through the golden day. 

Oh, where, oh, where is the laughing sprite! 
I shake and peer in flowerets fair, 
'Neath dewy brake and maidenhair, 

I search till pale moonlight. 

Long I search for the hidden trail, 
I trace the run of a startled mole, — 
A line of ants over a knoll, — 

But the elfin path I fail. 

Then weary I dream on leafy sod: 
Now they meet at magic hour, 
A roguish throng in flowery bower. 

Now they beckon, smile, and nod! 



A LULLABY 

Sleep, sleep, my little one, sleep! 
The oriole has flown to her nest. 

In maple leaf bower. 
The bumble bee has crept to its rest 

In the heart of the flower. 
And the evening star in the west 

Twinkles bright at slumber hour. 
Oh, sleep, sleep! my little one, sleep! 



30 



THE CHIPMUNK AT HOME 

Where forest trees cast shadows deep 

Over underbrush and vine 
On rocky hills, w^here banks are steep, 

Where grow the chestnut and pine — 
Here chipmunks live and thrive. 

Their beds in burrowed runs are warm 
With leaves and lichen mold, 

'Neath root of tree and jutting stone, 
Here lies their store, 'gainst winter cold, — 
Beech, acorn and hazelnut. 

On crumbling stump and fallen tree, 

They scamper to and fro. 
Now swift in flight, now bolt upright, 

Chirping shrill, or chattering low. 
To mates in answering call. 

Here they live and love in sunflecked wood 
Where leaves are drifting deep. 

Scurrying 'cross the old wood trails 
Bright-eyed, alert, to quickly leap 
In the wake of falling nut. 

A THOUGHT[MESSAGE 

I sent it forth on aerial wave 
To the night, "electric air"; 

Beneath pale moon rise, 

Beneath dusky skies, 
I sent forth a friend's protecting prayer. 



31 



THE OLD APPLE-TREE 

Upturned on the wind-swept lea; — 
Lies the wreck of the old apple-tree; 
With leafy branches broken down, — 
Prone on the rain-soaked ground. 

No more in the waking spring 
Will the robin on the wing 
Joyfully warble his mate to greet, 
Where the budding branches meet. 

No more to warm with ruddy breast. 
The little ones in their hidden nest; 
Nor sing, in his matrimonial glee. 
In the shade of the old apple-tree; 

No more will the fledgling chirp or try 
From the crowded nest to fly 
Out and away, in wavering flight. 
From its leafy shade to sparkling light. 

For the robins will search in vain, 
When they come to nest again. 
Over hill and o'er flowering lea, 
For the home in the old apple-tree. 

Upturned on the wind-swept lea 
Lies the trunk of the old apple-tree; 
Now adrift, withered leaves whirl by, 
Where the broken branches lie. 



3i 



THE CHICKADEE 

Chick-a-dee, dee, dee! 

Chick-a-dee, dee, dee! 
A chickadee sang in the leafless tree; 
Deep was the snow, o'er upland and lea, 
And cold the mist drifting in from the sea, 
But from limb to limb, in jubilant glee 
The chickadee sang, in the storm-tossed tree, 
Chick-a-dee, dee, dee! 

Chick-a-dee, dee, dee, 
Brightening the day for you and me 
By the cheerful song of the chickadee. 



THE DRAGON-FLIES' DANCE 

Over the water they rapturously dance; 

Over the sleeping river, 
Glimmering upward from odorous banks. 

With rainbow wings a-quiver. 

Over the water they lightly dart 

Coursing above the stream 
With silvery wings in the morning sun. 

Flashing an opal gleam. 

Over the water they lovingly meet 

In upward curve and downward dive; 

Ever quivering, never to tire, — 
Just happy to be alive. 



33 



BUTTERFLIES 

Over the flowering grassy fields 

Butterflies flutter and dance by pair. 

Now drifting low, caressing the grasses, 
Now soaring aloft in upper air. 

Their glowing wings in sunbeams steep, 
Lightly quivering with enamor'd grace; 

No more the larvae to lowly creep, 
But a-wing through radiant space. 

Over the flowery grassy fields 

Butterflies sail through odorous air; 

Lightly wavering, like thistle down. 
Hovering over the flowers fair, 

THE QUAIL'S NEST 

Where sumach and sweet fern abound, 

A quail's bower-nest with eggs I found, 

Beneath the ferns, on leaf mold ground, 

On the pasture hill. 

Shyly hidden was the quail at rest, 
Covering eggs in the grassy nest, — 
Oh quick'ning life, 'neath loving breast. 
On the pasture hill. 

Oh joyful heart, when the brood is born. 
Whistles the mate at dewy dawn. 
Oh joyful hearts, — that eventful morn, 
On the pasture hill. 



34 



WILD STRAWBERRIES 

I know where the wild strawberries grow. 
'Tis where the fragrant zephyrs blow 
Over wild rose and grasses low, 
On the pasture hills. 

Where sumachs and sweet fern abound, 
The dewy berries kiss the ground, 
The crimson berries fondly found, 
On the pasture hills. 

Fragrant and sweet are the berries rare. 
Ripening 'mid the daisies fair, 
Absorbing dew and perfumed air 
On the pasture hills. 

YELLOW VIOLETS 

Where waters tinkle in fernery dell. 
Far in forest shade they shyly dwell. 
The yellow violets of the wood. 

Far from human haunts they love to blow. 

Where only the wild-life watch them grow. 

Amid fern and frail monk's-hood. 

They nestle at the roots of mossy trees. 
Rippling above a sea of leaves: 

Here they dwell in solitude. 

In dells, where the partridge rear their young. 
In dells, where the phebe's song is sung. 
They hide in the fragrant wood. 



35 



BARN SWALLOWS 

I watch the skimming swallows 

Feeding on the wing, 
'Tis poetry in each motion 

In dip and dive and ring, 
I watch the skimming swallows 

View their wheeling flight. 
Silvery wings a-gleaming 

Upward to the light, 
I harken to the swallows 

Hear their voicing art. 
In gladsome, merry twitters 

Joyful, joyful heart. 
I listen to the swallows 

Warbling gay airs 
Jingeling sweet music 

Oh, happy, happy pairs. 

THE WINDS AWOKE 

The winds awoke and shook the leafless trees. 
The cold boughs snapped and creaked all mourn- 
fully. 
The winds awoke, and caught the snowflakes light, 
Like rising smoke it rose above the walls, 
Sweeping the flakes along to piling drifts, 
Whirling far on and on in circling mounds, 
Banking high up against the fringe of willows, 
High in the lilac hedge, wild brier brambles; 
Drifting o'er zigzag lines of old rail fence. 
Till all the ways were lost in whirling snow. — 
Throughout the day the raging storm swept on, 
Throughout the night it held high revelry. 

36 



THE DAFFODIL 

Fair daffodil: 

The golden sun has wooed thee 

From out the 'wakening ground 
To brighten the upland and field 

That look so sere and brown. 
The zephyrs have wooed thee, too, 

From out thy wintry sleep, 
To cheer the bluebirds on the wing, 

Whispering, This is spring. 

Fair daffodil: 

The rains greet thee with a kiss 

Upon thy budding flower, 
Wooing the quickening herbage 

With many a fragrant shower. 
Like a host of jocund elves 

Dancing in wind-swept grass, 
You swing your bells so lightly 

Nodding brightly as we pass. 

THE FALLING OF THE SNOW 

Low banks of snow clouds lay above the sea, 
Dark and foreboding on that wintry morn, 
Ere hour had flown, it spread across the sky 
To a gloomy haze, and stray flakes fluttered wild; 
Then fast and faster came the flying snow, 
Covering the barren fields, the old stone walls, 
Lodging along the branches of the trees. 
Filling the wildwood paths, the rabbit's runs, 
Settling o'er ice-locked ponds and rocky ledges. 
Till earth and air was white with falling flakes, — 
Hidden from sight the distant hills and ridges. 

37 



A NOVEMBER SCENE 

White the hoar-frost on old rail fences, 
White the hoar-frost in the stubbled field, 

White the soft breast of fluttering snowbirds 
Gleaning their share of the harvest yield. 

Gray the snow clouds above the treetops, 

Gray the bare twigs that shake in the breeze, 

Gray the rabbits speeding to wind-break. 
Huddling close 'neath the cedar trees. 

Brown the dried ferns skirting the brookside, 
Brown the oak leaves that drop at our feet, 

Brown the swift wing of the startled partridge 
Whirring away to a safe retreat. 

THE FALL RAIN 

Sadly weeping, 
Sadly weeping. 
Autumn rains sweep o'er the hills. 

Drifting o'er the misty lowlands, 
Filling swamp and marshy rills. 

Coldly drenching aster blossoms. 
Fading gentian's heavenly blues, 
Soaking weeds and cornfield stubble, 
Changing all to russet hues. 
Softly weeping. 
Softly weeping. 
Autumn rains drift o'er the hills. 

Blotting out the rusty lowlands, 
Flooding swamp and marshy rills. 

38 



IN THE HOURS OF THE DAWN 

Awake 1 to the early dawn 

Awake! while the birds all sing; 

Bare thy feet to tender grasses, 
Let the fragrant clover cling. 

Awake! to the rosy dawn, 

Awake! from thy sordid care; 

Go from thy shut-in dwelling, 
Go breathe in the nectar air. 

Go, roam the hillside pasture. 
Hunt the wild strawberry sweet. 

Echo the wild birds' singing 
Give thy weary mind a treat. 

Go, wade in the tinkling brook, 

Go, find where the wild birds nest; 

Touch not the egg or fledgling. 
But see how they are blest. 

THE LONELY PEACH TREE 

The peach tree weeps by the garden wall, 
With every gust the teardrops fall. 
Swiftly the crystalline drops, in grief, 
Drip from every tapering leaf. 

The peach tree weeps by the orchard wall, 
Through rainy days, through chilly fall. 
All the apple trees are stripped of leaf 
Lone the peach tree weeps in silent grief. 



39 



THE OLD MILL 

Now the home of the squirrel and chipmunk 
The home of spider and bat; 

Contented the turtle bakes in the sun, 
Now fearless the shy water-rat: — 

Swamp-maples and gray alders grow 

Close by the old grist mill; 
Hazel bushes and blackberry vines 

Reach to the window sill; 
Pickerel weed fills the old sluice-way, 

Mingling with arrow-head, 
Where once the outflowing waters 

Rushed to the rocky bed. 

Now the old wooden wheel is silent. 

And the stream it ripples slow, 
For the broken dam of the mill pond 

Has left the waters low. 
The kingfishers haunt the ruined mill, 

Circle above the pool, 
Where speckled trout and minnows hide 

Under the cresses cool. 

Through shingles warped on mossy roof 

The sunbeams flicker bright. 
O'er rotting timber and sunken floor 

Safe for a footstep light. 
Squirrels scamper along the beams 

Dropping nutshells on the floor, 
'Mid broken twigs and withered leaves 

Blown through the door. 



40 



Now swallows skim through open panes 

Winging to mud-thatched nest 
High in the cobwebbed rafters, 

Safe with a brood at rest. 
When twilight veils the marshy stream 

We hear the whip-poor-will, 
Or the lonely cry of wakening owl, 

By the old abandoned mill. 



THE BOBOLINK 

When you can pipe that merry old strain, 
Robert of Lincoln, come back again. 

— Bryant 

Robert of Lincoln is back again; 
Rollicking high a sweet refrain. 

Tinkling in the stretch of meadow. 
Tinkling in his old domain. 

Robert of Lincoln is back again; 
Bubbling o'er with rapturous strain; 

Poet of the flowery meadow, 
Poet of the grassy plain. 

Robert of Lincoln is back again; 
Reeling songs to brown mate plain. 

Winging through the fragrant meadow. 
Winging up from burnished grain. 

Robert of Lincoln is back again; 
Rollicking high his old refrain. 

Jubilant in the sun-kissed meadow, 
Jubilant even in the rain. 



41 



A WILDWOOD IDYL 

Seeking wildwood, open sky, 
Blithe beneath the trees am I; 
Watching squirrel chattering high, 
Watching wood-dove cooing nigh, — 
Bliss to tread the forest way 
Along trails where rabbits stray, 
Greeting quail in ferny spray. 
Hearing veery's tender lay; 
Joy to watch the brooding bird. 
Chirping nestling faintly heard. 
Downy feather lightly stirred, — 
Soothing note from mother-bird. 

Child of Nature, joyous, free. 
Seeking blossoms with the bee, 
Tracing brook through flowery lea, 
Fringed by reed and willow tree; 
Seeking violet hidden low 
Where do moss and cresses grow 
Beside the rivulet's rippling flow 
That through beechen grove doth go; 
Plucking trillium, wet with dew. 
Frail hepatica, starry blue. 
Finding elf's whip-poor-will shoe, 
Hid among the meadow-rue. 

Loving twilight, sunset flush, — 
Seeking haunt of hermit thrush 
Trilling sweet at evening hush, 
Sheltered by the swaying rush; 
In the shadowy green lights dim, 
Watching fireflies winging glim, 



42 



Moths fluttering 'round the budding limb, 
By weird light from the new moon's rim, 
Dreaming beneath dusky sky, 
On soft boughs of fir to lie 
Soothed by pine trees' crooning sigh 
Lulled by night winds passing by — 
Ah! 'tis Nature's child am I. 

IDLE HOURS ON THE RIVER 

Happy I, — adrift, — afloat, — 

Down the winding stream along. 

Gently rocked by swaying boat. 
Dreamy, soothed, by ripple's song. 

Lightly drifting down the stream, 

Light, as dragon-fly in air, — 
Sporting o'er the flag agleam. 

Darting 'mid the lilies fair, — 

Dipping past the reedy shore 

Whence the fen-goose takes her flight, — 
Startled by the splash of oar. 

Fluttering her pinions bright, — 

Past the margin's fernery-green. 

Past the inlet's cool retreat. 
Where the lily pads are seen. 

Whitened o'er with blossoms sweet. 

Happy I, — adrift, — afloat, — 
Watching clouds sail high in air, 

Dreaming in a restful boat. 
Free from all oppressive care. 



43 



BIRDS OF THE MARSHES 

List to bird voices wafting from out fresh water 
marshes, 
When spring has worked her spell along the 
sheltered reedy way; 
Here, amid primitive wastes of waving flags and 
grasses. 
The marsh birds freely mate and call through- 
out the lengthening day; 
Come; we will seek their favorite haunts, their 
shrubby covers, 
Where the tree and swamp sparrows sing their 
sweet and tender lay. 
Where red-winged blackbirds flash scarlet epaulets 
in the sunlight. 
And "Rustics" pass in loose flocks, tinkling 
medley on the way. 

Near the pools, fringed with alders, and overhung 
by Vv^illows 
The marsh wrens build their globular nests, — 
a shy, chippering bird, 
Yellow warblers sing amid the shadbush foaming 
blossoms. 
Winging through the tender spray, scarce are 
the leaflets stirred; 
Carolina rails call from out the swaying cattail 
grasses. 
Whistling a low plaintive strain, their whinnies 
softly heard; 
Bobolinks in tinkling pinks trill forth in sheer 
happiness, 
So sweet, too sweet, the liquid notes to catch by 
written word. 

44 



When twilight vails the mirroring pools and green 
meadow sedges, 
We hear the rising snipes' flight-call in skyward 
ardor bent; 
Flashing winnowing songs high in swift aerial 
circles, 
Now dropping to earth again 'mid the reeds in 
swift descent. 
Night herons call to mates amid flags and matted 
grasses. 
Where closing water lilies fill the air with fragrant 
scent; 
The bittern's voice is heard, sounding clear from 
tangled shelter, 
Wooing back a wandering mate far on a forage 
bent. 

O winged habitants! free among the fresh water- 
marshes, 
Joyous, in love's "season," gathering twigs for 
hidden nest; 
Preening glossy feathers, 'mong the moist flowery 
thickets. 
Dreaming of tender young, soon to chirp be- 
neath loving breast, 
Happy homes; 'mid shimmering green, tints in rose 
and amber. 
Silvery pools, 'neath cloud-flaked sky, where 
wild ducks feed and rest. 
O blissful voices! wafting from leafy hedge and 
swaying grasses; — 
We see the flash of opening wings, the gleam of 
glowing crest. 



45 



THE SQUIRREL'S THOROUGHFARE 

Dear to kingfisher the course of the pastoral brook; 
Dear to rabbit the path to his evergreen nook; 
But dearer the old Virginia fence to our squirrel 
rover; 
Daily companion of the weather-beaten rail 
That winds between grain fields, where pipe the 
quail, 
Dividing the billov^ wheat from fields of clover. 

Where the fence skirts the brook, up the steep in- 
cline, 

Half hidden among the hazel brush and wild 
clambering vine. 
Their challenge chirp is borne through the clover- 
scented air; 

Here the mosses and lichens know their pattering 
feet, 

Where the jutting rails and the slanting posts meet, 
Here they pause, alert, chattering on their well- 
known thoroughfare. 

Oft in love's rhapsody the bobolink is heard; 
Where the sweet ferns and dewberries are lightly 
stirred 
Within its grassy angles, where the wild-briers 
mingling meet, — 
Here the lights and shadows everchanging play 
Along the zigzag track of the squirrel's highway, 
That divide fragrant fields, reaching to their 
cool wood retreat. 



46 



Along the spanning rails, to the crumbling wall, 
I watch their bounding flight, and hear their cheery 
call. 
Frisking and chattering, through the long sum- 
mer's day; 
Dear to kingfisher the course of the pastoral brook. 
Dear to rabbit the path to his evergreen nook. 
But dearer to squirrel the old rail fence along 
the country way. 

THE MEADOW LARK 

Out in the open at dawn I strayed. 
Early afield, the wild free life to greet; 
Refreshed, the morning breeze sprang up 
Swaying and tossing the billowy wheat, 
Up from the grasses a lark arose, 
Trilling a melody, rapt and sweet; — 

List to his song, where zephyrs sigh, 
To opening bar, through grass along, 

Upward, on joyous wing to fly 

Above the sedges, with blissful song. 

List to his song, where sunbeams play, 
Wakening flowers, their sweets diff"use; 

Blithely caroling nuptial lay. 

Shaking from wing the nightly dews. 

List to his song; to throbbing throat. 
Singing to mate, divinely clear. 

Sweetly trilling the softer note, 

Entranced I stand 'mong grasses near. 



47 



CHERISH THE WILD BIRDS 

Cherish the wild birds near your rural dwelling: 
Study their happy lives in field and woodland 
glen; 
Protect their nests in tree and grassy cover; 

Then gladly will they come with song to build 
again. 

Leave the old apple tree within the orchard; 

The bluebirds love to hide their nests in mossy 
bole; 
Robins will build between the crotched branches, 
Chickadees search for food among the boughs so 
old. 

Mow not near fences where in matted grasses 

Among wild wastes of weeds the warblers feed 
and rest; 
Disturb not briery tangles by the roadway — 

Beneath the bramble may hide a song-sparrow's 
nest. 

Restore their haunts by dwindling watercourses, 
Let wilding shrubs spring up again by waterway; 

Then the redwing will come to the alder thicket. 
The yellow-throat will sing again his tender lay. 

For winter birds plant an evergreen shelter, 

Let the lower branches trail the snowy ground, 
The spicy cone for food, throughout the wintry 
weather, 
Snug retreat for grosbeak, snowbird, and creeper 
brown. 

48 



Protect the wild birds near your modest dwelling; 

Watch orioles weave nests in elm and maple high; 
Listen to the song of wood-thrush in the thicket: 

Song of praise from meadow-lark a-wing in 
azure sky. 

THE WINTER HOME OF THE BLUEJAY 

Where slender spruces tower above the tops of white 

birches, 
Where frozen water courses wind along the wooded 

flat, 
Where evergreens mingle with fringe of graceful 

alders. 
Here bluejoys lightly wing among the northern 

pines. 

Where glittering snows bend down the hemlock's 

fragrant branches, 
Where red squirrels trail their snowy tracks from 

tree to tree, 
Where rabbits match in whiteness the drifts across 

the runways, — 
Here bluejays blithely call among the snowy pines. 

Where balsam, fir, and cedar offer their spicy 

sweetness. 
Where flocks of cheery crossbills peck fragrant 

cones apart. 
Where ruflPed grouse seek partridge berry in the 

thickets, — 
Here bluejays gayly feed among the sheltering 

pines. 



49 



AMONG THE GRASSES 

Why be sad ? Oh, rejoice; 

Listen to Nature's voice, 
CalUng us to her open fields, — to peace and rest; 

Why bow to needless care, 

Flowers smile everywhere. 
Come! nestle among the grasses, on her fragrant 
breast. 

The clouds sail serene 

Above the billowy green. 
Reflecting fleecy floats upon the placid streams, 

Bobolink singeth long 

Attuned to Nature's song. 
Come hither! among the herbage for tender dreams. 

Come, be a child again. 

And weave the daisy chain 
Among the crimson clovers and starry grasses; — 

Here dandelion soweth light 

Her seeds 'til out of sight. 
Thrown to the breeze, the parachute gayly passes. 

Along the rustling grass. 

The mellow sunbeams pass. 
Come, follow the windings of the laughing brook, 

Through meadow field below. 

Past rushes, stilly, slow. 
For red-wings' nests among the alders fondly look. 

The water runneth cool, 
Adown to limpid pool, 
Her banks aglow with buttercups, dewy wet, — 



5^ 



We'll kneel to mosses low, 
Beside the ripples flow, 
To seek, and pluck the tender violet. 

Come, where bindweeds are found, 
Creeping along the ground, 
Across our wayward path, they wildly, freely 
twine, — 
Against the rocky cleft, 
Swaying from leaf-loam rift. 
In scarlet flames here noddeth the dancing colum- 
bine. 

Oh, why, oh, why, then sad ? 

When Nature is so glad; 
When wild birds all sing joyfully of love and peace, 

Oh, come, with quickening feet, 

For life is sweet, 'tis sweet, 
Come to the fragrant fields, from all dull cares 
release. 



THE SWALLOWS FLY SOUTH 

Now swallows meet, 
In circling flocks they swiftly fly 
Flashing joyous through autumn sky 

"A homing meet." 
Strong are the wings of restless young 
Eager for life, beneath southern sun 

The warmth to greet. 
Soft breasts flashing silvery white 
Winging southward in blissful flight 

For palm retreat. 



51 



IN A SUMMER HAUNT OF THE BIRDS 

I hear the drum roll of the grouse, 

Deep among the tangled brush; 
I hear the love call of the plover 

A-piping from the sheltered rush; 
Cheery notes from red-winged blackbirds — 

All the air vibrates with "O-ka-lee"; 
Joyous confides from the vireos 

Their secrets wafted by the breeze; 
Rapturous strain from hidden woodthrush 

Repeating oft her tender warbling; 
Inspiring medley from the thrasher, — 

Gay the fluting, wild, entrancing; 
'Tis a beauteous world of wild birds. 

Singing, mating everywhere. 

I hear the squawk of startled wood duck. 

Winging up from marshy grasses; 
I hear the rattle of the herons 

Haunting pond and water passes; 
Gay the trills of sunny ricebirds 

Swinging from the swaying sedges; 
Sweet the songs of vesper sparrows 

Birdlings safe among the hedges; 
Soft the coos of nestling wood doves, 

High among the piney branches; 
A pensive strain from lone pewees, — 

Their sad notes reveal their hidings, — 
'Tis an exuberant world of wild birds 

Swinging, winging, everywhere. 



52 



AN EARLY MARCH DAY 

Weary of wild tempestuous March, 

Of his turbulent sway; 
I wandered along the southern slopes, 

Roaming the pasture way; 
Seeking for the spring's early flower, 

If only a bud to see 
Among the mosses and withered grasses, 

Beneath the leafless tree. 

Weary of cold blustering March, 

Of his fierce mad reign, 
I sigh for the gentle zephyr, 

For the soft April rain, 
To hasten the wood anemones 

From the mellow mold, — 
To hasten the starry hepaticas 

Their drowsy buds unfold. 

Weary of frost, and ice-glazed ponds. 

Of the half-wakened rills; 
I sigh for the bright laughing waters, 

For their gay tinkling rills, 
As they caress the white violets 

Along their joyful way, — 
As they caress the young tender reeds 

In light wanton play. 

Weary of crow's caw above the wood. 

Of the shrill bluejay's call, 
I long for the love-notes of phoebe 

From fence and garden wall; 
I listen for the trill of bluebirds, 

For the first robin's song, — 
I listen and wait for their coming 

Oh how many days, — how long? 

53 



THE WILD BIRDS' STORM SHELTERS 

Flocks of grouse to the hemlocks are winging, 

Fleeing to wind-break from coming storm, 
Seeking a shelter among the dense branches. 

Here the little brown birds are safe and warm. 
Wide the low sweep of the boughs so fragrant. 

Touching the moss-covered bowlders around, 
Closely protecting the quail and the rabbit, 

Beneath the thick sprays on the leaf-littered 
ground. 

Flocks of juncos to cedars are flitting. 

Fluttering and skurrying like wind-swept leaves, 
Feasting upon their spicy blue berries. 

Ere snuggling away 'neath evergreen eaves. 
Swift in the coming gay, little chickadees. 

As cold and foreboding the gray clouds frown. 
But cheerful their notes, — Chick-a-dee! Chick- 
a-dee! 

Safe in the cedars snowbirds are found. 

Rose-breasted nuthatch to a pine tree bounded : 

Yank! yank! his greeting was wafted to me; 
Bright-eyed he looked o'er bark crevice and lichen 

Ere he crept lee-side of the sheltering tree; 
Pine finches hide beneath resinous needles 

As faster and faster snowflakes whirl down. 
But cones are plenty beneath the warm needles, 

A welcoming spread for birds snowbound. 



54 



Downy woodpecker flew to friendly tree hollows, 

Tip-tap, tip-tapping, upon punky bole. 
His red cap glowed against snow-sprinkled mosses 

Ere he crept within the dry, deepened hole. 
The bluejays called 'mongthe snow-capped spruces, 

Above the wild storm rang their jocund cry, — 
They know they are safe among evergreen shelters, 

Snug their retreats while the storm rages high. 



ECHO 

Oh, stay, sweet luring Echo! stay! 
Swift I follow the woodland way, 
O'er hill and dale, this halcyon day; 
But fleeing through the flowery spray, 
Echo softly whispers: " Stay!" — 
No flash of robe a-shining. 

Oh, fly! from distant mountain fly! 
The eagles harshly scream on high. 
From nesting cliff to purpling sky; 
But following where wild birds cry. 
Echo faintly whispers: Fly! — 
And Jeaves me lone repining. 

Oh, stay, sweet luring Echo! stay! 
Across thy path wild waters lay! — 
But laughing through the foaming spray, 
Seeking for grottoes far away. 
Echo lightly whispers: Stay! 
And leaves me still repining. 



55 



THE DRAGON-FLY 

To-day I saw the dragon-fly 

Come down from the wells where he did lie. 

— Tennyson. 

The dragon-fly I saw to-day 
Across the sedges flit away, 
With form aglow to every ray, 
By water way. 

I saw him creep from slimy bed 
To water-plant, dun skin to shed — 
His larva form, — ere forth he fled 
With jeweled head. 

I watched him ere he thought to fly 
Beneath the warmth of sun, to dry 
Wet wings a tremble as they lie 
At pose to fly. 

I watched his first short, limpid flight 
O'er water-cress, a skimming bright 
All golden-green, with wings alight, — 
A glittering sight ! 

To wakened life of love he flew 
O'er arrow-heads adrip with dew, 
'Long foamy stretch of meadow-rue. 
O'er iris blue. 

O'er water-lily, dip and pause, 
All rainbow tints of wing agauze, — 
A vision bright for earthly laws 
To Nature's cause, — 



56 



A dreamy trance on fragrant rim 
Of petals white, each life agHm 
Pure joy from out mud bottoms dim — 
A sunhght hymn ! 

Oh, fleeting hfe! oh, golden dream! 
Wild chase with flock along the stream, 
Wild woo of mate with wing agleam, 
With eye abeam, 

A brilliant host, — a water-meet, 
O'er lily pads — a winged fleet, 
Each fragrant cup to lightly greet, — 
To touch and meet, 

Too swift the time before you lay, 
Too swift the hours by reedy way. 
Too short the night and sunny day, — 
And then away ! 

THE SECOND DAWN 

Deep was the snow upon the second morn, 
A trackless waste were all the fields and meadows; — 
No signs of forest life, no wild bird's call. 
No rabbit shy through the dry bushes bounding. 
All silent, save the soughing of the pines. 
Soft dropping of snowcaps, to limbs release; 
Stilled was the laughing voice of the tinkling brook, 
Lost 'neath the drifts its many vagrant windings. 
High laggard clouds trailed o'er a clearing sky; 
The sun shone out, and touched the icy snow 
Into myriad quivering points of radiant light 
Till all the world was made more beautiful. 



57 



LIGHT, LOVE, LIFE 

Pure joy! to see the forest flower. 
Wake to the Hght, the dew, the shower, 
To ope beside the foaming brook 
Among the ferns of rocky nook. 
Not I one tender stem to break 
From parent leaves, one flower to take 
From out the glen, a withered bloom, 
To press within a manual tomb; 
No more to breeze fresh petals swing 
Their fragrance wide, for love of spring, 

Spirit of Light! 
Not I, to do the thoughtless thing. 

Pure love! to watch the dragon-fly 
On jeweled wings go sailing by. 
Or dream in trance on swaying reed, 
Along the flowery wind-swept mead. 
Not I, in wanton chase to grasp 
Its brilliant shape, to rudely clasp, 
To pin and name, on numbered board, 
Its brittle form to be adorned; 
No more in life, on gauzy wing 
To woo, to blueflag lightly cling, 

Spirit of Love! 
Not I, to do the useless thing. 

Pure bliss! to hear the song of bird. 
To selfish ears joys half unheard; 
To hear sweet trills at rosy dawn, 
Glad wildwood songs to dream upon. 
Not I, one happy bird to catch, 
To leave lone mate or helpless hatch, 

58 



To mount dead form o'er twigs and moss, 
One loved voice still'd, to earth a loss, — 
No more with life to gayly wing 
O'er brooding mate to blithely sing ; — 

Spirit of Life ! 
Not I, to do this sinful thing. 

A TWILIGHT HOUR ON THE RIVER 

Idly floating along the waters a-dreaming 

In my light canoe I drift at rest. 
Past water lilies, all the blossoms a-gleaming, 

Fragrant and pure, on the river's breast. 

Past flowery banks, all the grasses a-waving, 
Borne lightly on by swift ripples flow; 

Waters sparkling at bow, the blueflags a-laving, 
From tingling rhythm to murmurings low. 

Past meadow sedges, the marsh birds a-flying, 
Winging through grasses in and out; 

Skirting the alders, the killdeers a-crying 
O'er foaming rapid and leaping trout. 

Past sheltered inlets, where wild geese gather. 
Past pebbly shore, where sandpipers run, 

Past green herons, preening a glossy feather, 
Till bathed with the light of the setting sun. 

Lightly drifting o'er burnished waves foaming, 
Light as fireflies flashing on fitful wing. 

Soothed by the fragrance from flowery gloaming, 
Lulled by the vespers the wood veerys sing. 



59 



THE VOICE OF THE WINDS 

Listen to the voice of the winds, 
Sweeping down from the frozen north, 
With icy breath, blowing forth 
The gray wolf's rallying cry, 
Born where glacier and icefields lie ! 
Beneath bright aurora-borealis sky; 

Listen to the howling of the wind. 

Listen to the voice of the wind, 
Wafting in from the rock-bound east. 
Scattering petals, where wild bees feast 
From flowering hedge and apple tree; 
Whispering to violets on dew wet lea 
Of crooning pine and restless sea. 
Listen to the sighing of the wind. 

Listen to the voice of the wind, 
Wafting up from the palm girdled south. 
Breathing soft, with odorous mouth. 
Kissed, from magnolia and jasmine sweet 
Where the rice birds and red-wings meet. 
Summoning nomad flocks to mild retreat. 
Listen to the music of the wind. 

Listen to the voice of the wind 
Blowing fresh from the billowing west, 
Speeding on by Divine behest 
Over mountain and grassy plane. 
Over stretches of growing grain, 
Swift to herald the coming rain; 

Listen to the message of the wind. 



60 



WHIP-POOR-WILL SONG 

Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! twilight is fall- 

Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! night bird is call- 
ing- 
Fireflies are glowing 
Through meadow's tall mowing; 
White moths are wending 
O'er purple mints bending; 
June beetles humming 
O'er starry grass coming; — 
Bumblebees dozing 
'Mong petal leaves closing; — 
Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! twilight is fall- 
ing. 
Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! night bird is call- 
ing. 

Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! darkness is fall- 
ing, 
Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! wild-bird is call- 
ing. 

Marsh frogs are peeping 
'Mong iris dew weeping; 
Cool zephyrs quafting; 
Wildroses sweets wafting; 
Bean blossoms shining 
'Mong musky leaves twining; 
Primroses gleaming 
To elfin forms seeming. 
Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! darkness is fall- 
ing; 
Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! wild bird is call- 
ing. 

6i 



MY BOTANY FRIENDS 

Along country way they study wild plant life, 
Where flowers, ferns, and brambles run rife. 
They pluck rare blossoms to common weed, 
From purple-thistle with its downy seed 
To cinquefoil, chickweed, dandelion blow. 
Yellow buttercup, daisy, bluets low, 
Mossy wild-pink, feathery meadow rue. 
Roadside chicory of azure hue. 
Butterfly weeds growing tall and rank. 
Bluebells swinging from overhanging bank. 
Partridge vines twining o'er mossy bed. 
Whip-poor-will shoe, marshy turtle head. 
Jewel weed, deergrass, Indian pipe; 
Plucking bud, full flower, seeds when ripe. 

Thus roaming field, lane, and forest walk, 
Digging up bulb, corm, and deep root stalk, 
Finding choice orchis beside the brook. 
Pressing them flat 'neath heavy book ; 
Seeking the hardy rock saxifrage, 
Seeking it again on Botany's page ; 
Classifying flowers of field and wood — 
Wild rose, fire-lily, and frail monk's-hood. 

Studying "Gray's Manual" to refresh their wits, 
Dissecting blossoms to ragged bits. 
Counting petals 'round a glowing heart. 
Pulling off stamens, cutting style apart. 
Studying cross-fertilization of plants — 
How carried on by bees and ants 
By brushing stamens as they lightly sup 
In seeking nectar from flowery cup ; 

62 



Thus carrying pollen from flower to flower 
Through sunny field and woodland bower. 

But do they see spiritual beauty when the lilies 

unfold, 
Spiritual beauty in their hearts of gold ? 
Do they read Love's message in the rose's heart, 
God's loving message that the flowers impart ? 
Can they solve their fragrant charm, their magic 

power, 
The quickening life force of each perfect flower ? 

TO THE PESSIMIST 

Do not rant about the rosebug on the rose. 
Failing to note the glory and the splendor of the 
rose — 
Fragrance of damask rose. 

Do not rail about drabbled skirt and dampened 

shoe. 
Failing to see the sparkle and the beauty of the 

dew — 
The grassy morning dew. 

Do not rave about the deadly toadstool of the wood 
Failing to taste of wholesome mushrooms that are 
good — 
Tender and pleasing good. 

Do not rant about tempest passing swiftly by, 
Failing to see the rainbow span the clearing sky, 
God's promise in the sky. 

63 



IN SYLVAN HAUNTS 

In the shadows of the forest, 

In the dusky thicket shade, 
Where the wood-thrush sings her sweetest 

Sweetest song of woodland glade; 
Where the wood-doves meet a-wooing, 

Build aloft their pine-wove nest ; 
Here doth come the sylvan maiden, 

Wildwood roses on her breast. 

Where the grasses of the lowlands 

Bend to winds a-rippling free 
Over stretch of blueflag azure, 

Over all the billowy lea ; 
Where the meadow-lark uprising 

Trills to mate in upper air ; 
Here doth come the sylvan maiden, 

Wildwood roses in her hair. 

High among the rocky ledges 

Where the crags first flush to dawn ; 
Where the buck and doe feel safest 

'Mong the ferns with timid fawn ; 
Where the silver fox feels freest. 

Tracking o'er the wild waste land, — 
Here doth roam the sylvan maiden. 

Spray of wild rose in her hand. 

By the winding stream, half hidden 

By the rushes on the way ; 
Where the dragon-flies do gather, 

Whirl and skim through sunny day ; 



64 



Where wild roses of the brookside 
Bend o'er waves and fondly meet, — 

Here doth dream the sylvan maiden, 
Wild roses petals at her feet. 

HIGH-NOON 

Above the dreamy hills 

The cumulus clouds sail high. 
Trailing their shadows light 

O'er fields of dimpling rye, 
No wandering zephyr sweet 

Stirs the spread of daisies fair, 
The luminous noonday heat 

Shimmers through fragrant air. 

An odorous breath along 

The crimson clovers pass, 
Through stretch of timothy, 

Scented herb and blue-eyed grass, 
, Locust and cricket in 

Symphonious shrill are heard 
Piping among the shimmering green, 

Scarce a leaflet stirred, 

For sweets, bright-hued butterflies, 

With gauzy wings that blaze. 
Pose above the languid flowers 

In the uncertain haze; 
From sheltered hedge the tree toad 
Trills to the cloud-flaked sky, 
Proclaiming to the wild field lily 
That rain draws nigh. 

65 



BESIDE THE RIVER 

Where the willows dip to waters 
That reflect the sky's soft blue, — 

Where the breezes sway young grasses, 
From deepening greens, to silvery hue, — 

Where the marsh-nuns 'mong the blueflags 
Brilliant pose for moment's rest, 

Where the amber-wings brightly gather 
A hovering host o'er watercress, — 

Where the reeds and rushes quiver 
To the touch of swallow's wings, 

As they lightly skim the waters 

Along the banks in flashing rings, — 

Where the marsh wrens 'mid the cat-tails 
Weave their dainty cradled nest, 

Trilling low their tender warblings 
To and fro on loving quest, — 

Where the waves caress the lilies, 

Lilies caress the old canoe, 
'Neath the fringe of drooping alders. 

Where the sunbeams flicker through, — 

Here, I oft do dream at evening, 
The reedy, silent stream along 

Bird and flower and brook invite me 
To sing their praise in joyful song. 



66 



AUTUMN'S LAMENT 

I hear the wind's sad moan ; 

The summer gay is dead. 
I see no more the rose, 

No more the blooming bed. 

O leaves, bright autumn leaves, 

Drift o'er the garden bed. 
And weave a coverlet soft 

To ease the wintry dread. 

Winds! Cease to moan and sigh; 

The flowers have gone to sleep. 
When springtime comes again, 

They'll awake — so do not weep. 

MAPLE LEAVES 

From maple trees by crumbling wall, 
The freed leaves sail in downward quivers, 
Drifting wind-row'd like golden rivers, 

Glittering where the sunbeams fall. 

Glowing leaves wafting fragrance faint, 
In rapturous whirls they swiftly part 
In glimmering waves o'er Nature's heart, 

Filling pathways and hollows quaint. 

Now 'neath the naked trees they lie. 
Bright treasures fallen to earth around. 
No voice is heard save twittering sound 

Of restless birds that southward fly. 



67 



SQUIRREL CORN 

Delicate swaying flowers, 
Caressed by April's showers, 
Rocked by the gentle breeze, 
Under the forest trees, 

Alive to the bluebird's call; 
Flowers of creamy white. 
Tipped with amber light, 
Wafting a fragrant scent, 
Like unto the Hyacinth, 

Perfume over all. 

On the rocky cliffs, 
In the leaf-loam rifts. 
The silver sheen 
Of leaflets green 
Gracefully hem 
The blossoming stem, 
That lightly sways 
Through vernal days, 

With every passing breeze. 

Flowers of blushing hue, 
Bathed with forest dew. 
Swaying from ferny hedge. 
High on a mossy ledge, 
Tremble from slender stalk, 
Joy of a morning's walk, — 
Shall I bear thee away ? 



68 



HOW SHE LOVES AND LINGERS 

Summer flees with winged feet 
O'er the stubble of the wheat; 
Past the sumach's crimsoning hue; 
Over spread of asters blue; 
Past the maples, scarlet kissed, 
Over hills of amethyst; 
Past the reedy inlet cool, 
Past the water-lily pool; 
Glancing back, with lingering look 
At the tinkling, drowsing brook; 
Brooding of the blissful hours 
Spent among the iris flowers; 
Watching dragon-flies at play 
O'er the foaming water's spray. 
Now all is lost but hazy dreams, — 
Summer flees from sylvan streams. 

THE NORTH WIND 

Wildly calling, 
Wildly calling, 
Northwinds moan among the trees, 
Sighing o'er the wildwood cradle, 
Filling homes with russet leaves; — 
Soon the uplands will be barren. 
Frosted leaves do quickly fall ; 
Soon the honking wild geese vanish, 
Faintly far the southing call. 
Softly sighing. 
Softly sighing. 
North winds moan among the trees, 
Fitful rocks the empty cradle, — 
Nests are left to drifting leaves. 
69 



THE CUCKOO 

Oh for the wood by the shady pool, 
Where cowsHps grow in waters cool. 
Where rainbow trout leap in sparkling spray 
After gauze-winged dragon-flies at play. 
Oh, for the scent of resinous pines 
A bed of moss and vines 

Where cones are softly falling, 
To hear the cuckoo gay. 
Swinging from hemlock spray 
To wood nymphs a-calling. 

Cuckoo ! — cuckoo ! — cuckoo ! — 
The spirit echo — calling, 
Cuckoo! cuckoo! 



Sweet the sound of the vesper bell 
Ringing at twilight in village dell: 

Peace! Peace! Peace, o'er the earth 
Rings the chime of the vesper bell. 

THE HARVEST TIME OF LEAVES 

The forest glows with scarlet and gold. 
In fitful showers down sail the leaves; 
Hordes of wildwood fays now release 
The frail leaves' hold. 

Merry elves playing with harvest bright 
Tossing blazing leaves along the ground, 
Rolling up windrows, covering mound 
In drifts of light. 



70 



Banking rocky shelf and woodland path, 
Filling the hollows beneath the trees 
Now leaving the gleanings to appease 
The north wind's wrath. 

The scatterings left for the wind's fierce game 
To be buffeted on by chilly blast 
In rustling whirls, skurrying past 
In wreaths of flame. 



THE SWING 

Come with me, dear. We will swing, 
Free as wild birds on the wing. 
To the rope we'll lightly cling, 
Swinging from the locust trees. 
Full with bloom and humming bees;- 
Speeding with the fragrant breeze. 
Swaying to and fro. 
Swaying high and low, 
Swinging swift, swinging slow, 
Lightly to and fro, — 
Come, dear, we will swing. 

Come with me, dear. We will swing 
Joyous as the birds that sing. 
Safe together we will cling 
Beneath arch of heavenly blue. 
Above the flowers and the dew, — 
Free in air with only you. 

Swaying to and fro, 
Swaying high and low, 

Swinging swift, swinging slow. 

Softly to and fro, — 

Come, dear, we will swing. 

71 



THE ^OLIAN HARP 

When the wind harp's hreezes blow, 
Lightly o'er the trembling strings; 

Then forth in sylvan strains, 
Inspiring music wings. 

Dancing, like golden sunbeams 
O'er wind-swept lilies tall. 
Rippling like tinkling streams, 

O'er gushing waterfall. 
Caroling like meadow lark, 

Blithesome in aerial flight. 
Soaring to the fleecy cloud. 

Winging through azure light. 

Now murmuring chords like waves 

Beating against rocky shore. 
Where the billows break in foam, 

Back to the seas once more; 
Notes floating like sun-kissed barks 

Over a slumbering sea; 
Now, dip and dive of swallows 

Over a grassy lea. 

Now, languishing strains, drifting 

Through shadowy groves of palm. 
Where wood fays softly bring you 

Garlands and buds of balm, — 
O fairy zephyrs! weaving 

Delicate flowers for spring! 
O tender nymphs! caressing 

Harp with aerial wing! 



72 



THE MYTH OF THE BLUEBIRD 

(A Seminole Legend') 

Once when Time was younp;, in rapturous flight, 

A brownish bird soared in radiant light. 

Lost in jubilant trills he flew so high 

He brushed the dome of the deep blue sky. 

Till his feathers glowed as the azure dome 

Ere he winged again to his earthly home. 

In his flashings downward, toward sunset west, 

The flaming rays tinted a ruddy breast. 

In extatics he flew to nesting tree. 

Homing thoughts of loved ones, birdlings three, 

In tenderness he greeted joyous mate, 

In true love warblings he did relate 

Of celestial flight, of his coat of blue, 

Trilling "You shall wear sky colors too." 

But her day was not as radiant fair 

Wandering storm clouds drifted in air 

Subduing the rapture of throbbing throat, — 

An unwonted pathos of minor note, 

As singing she flew in ethereal flight 

Soaring through vapors into azure light, 

But in winging downward through clouds of gray 

The rain mists washed some bright blue away. 

Trembly-wet, she pressed to mate's ruddy breast 

Till warm tints spread to her rain-splashed vest. 

That is'the reason of her duller hue 

While mate is exuberant in brilliant blue. 

O, never again will song bird soar as high, 

O, never again through glorious sky. 



73 



THE RING-PLOVER 

In rhythm with the rippHng wavelets 

The plovers dance along the strand, 
Leaving trail of webbed footprints 

Far out on the tide-washed sand; 
In rhythm with the foaming wavelets 

They flit along the rock-bound shore, 
To their nests among the seaweeds, 

Among drift waste, on shell-strewn floor. 

At home with the ebbing waters 

They daily flock, and feed afar. 
O'er dripping rocks when tides run low 

Along the shoal and gleaming bar; — 
At home with the storm-tossed waters. 

When the wild waves fret and cling 
'Round jagged reefs when tides run high 

Brave, through the storm on fearless wing. 



THE QUAIL OF THE WHEAT FIELDS 

Sweet the dear call of Bobwhite in the grain fields. 
Whistling oft to his wandering love; 

Sweet the ripe scent of the bearded spears 'round 
them. 
Golden waves tossing all burnished above. 

Sweet the faint breeze that caresses wheat billows, 
Languid and warm is the kiss of the air; 

Sweet dropping seed from out yellow ripples; 
'Mid sunny tangles are hidden the pair. 



74 



Sweet the noon haze a-purpling, shimmering, 
Melting o'er foamy flaked seas of gold; 

Sweet the wheat ripples a-darkening, whitening, 
Submerging Bobwhites in their soft enfold. 

Sweet the love-call of Bobwhite in the grain fields, 
Tender her answer from neighboring rail; 

Together they'll wander 'mid glimmering billows, — 
'Tis nodding of wheat heads, — flocking of quail. 

Sweet the corn-cockles, gay blossoms around them» 
Rose purple, deep tinted, swaying so bright. 

Sweet, "Lychnis pinks," bright blossoms around 
them, 
Thy name signifies a "lamp and a light." 



THE HANGBIRD'S NEST 

Secluded within the shadowy wood, 

Amid the flowers, the ferns, the leafy soil, 

The silvery whispering maple stood, 

Around its trunk, a wild vine's creepers coil : 

From swaying limb the hangbird's nest was hung. 
To topmost bough the cradle was safely twined. 

Here throughout June days the noted vireos sung, 

Nor were their songs to nesting tree confined. 
But never far, I heard their warbling strain, 

Inspiring gladness swelled through liquid note, 
A subtile lisping of a sweet refrain, 

'Til raptured zephyrs bore it on to float 
Through leafy wood, 'til lost the precious sound. 
'Twas heard no more, 'til eager sylphids found 

Again limpid notes to waft the glen around. 



75 



THE ORIOLE 

Oh, the oriole! 

Glowing like the sun, 

When he rises orange-red, 

Up from mountain-bed. 

Glimmering through mist o'er the river 

Oh, the oriole! 

Warbling like a flute. 

Swaying like great god Pan 

When his wild music ran 

Through the reed, by the rush-lined river. 

Oh, the oriole! 
Joyous as a cherub; 
Soaring to his nest on high 
Swung between earth and sky 
Woven to elm boughs a-quiver. 



TO MY FRIEND THE TOAD 

Bright little toad 

That lives in wood and tillaged field. 
You are the gardener's faithful help 
To save a larger yield. 

Quaint little toad, 

You eat the farmer's garden bugs; 
In cauliflower and lettuce beds 
You eat the lazy slugs. 



76 



Dear little toad, 

You try and catch the insects all, 
Amid dewy rows of cabbages. 

Where caterpillars crawl. 

Bright little toads, 

Your virtues are seldom known 
By thoughtless child that would you wrong 
With cruel stick or stone. 

Dear little toad, 

We will protect you from all harm. 
From thoughtless boy in wood and field. 
For we need you on the farm. 

THE FLIGHT Ot THE SONG BIRDS 

Summer has flown from woody vale, 
After her the song birds trail. 
Swallows' breasts flash silvery white 
Winging south in raptured flight. 
Robins flock, and hurry on, — 
Bobolinks have gladly gone. 
Flashing through aerial blue 
Up from sedgy, frosted dew. 
Blackbirds, too, have swiftly flown, 
Autumn birds are left alone; 
Through the meadow, swamp, and lane 
Summer birds I seek in vain. 
Music fades from out the grove, 
Deserted now I listless rove, — 
From stubble field, from hazy hill, 
Song birds have flown — the wood is still. 



77 



A SYLVAN NYMPH 

She grew in beauty, in her wildwood home; 

Her thoughts were joyous, radiantly fair; 

The warm earth loved her. Where she chanced 

to roam 
The wild rose blushed more sweet, in fragrant air 
Showering petals. By the winding stream, 
Where oft she wandered near, the ripples gleam. 
Wooed by the zephyr and the sun's glancing beam. 

Violets kissed her feet through mossy dells, 
Water lilies by her smile did gleam more rare. 
Foxgloves along the way rang nectar bells, 
All the flowering herbs she passed grew more fair. 
For her, the wild bees hid their fiery stings. 
For her, dragon flies flashed their rainbow wings; 
Deep, in her groves, more rapt the wood-thrush 
sings. 



SONG OF THE SCYTHE 

Up, up, twin butterflies, lightly sail! 

Glittering whirls of yellow rovers. 
Clear, clear, love notes of whistling quail 

From out the spread of crimson clovers. 

Cling! cling! gleaming blades ring 

As rifles o'er them fly; 
Cling, cling, the whetstones sing 

Along the sharpening scythe. 



78 



Swish! swish! through ripening grass, 

Through waving timothy tall: 
Swish! swish! widening swath! 

Flowers and grasses fall. 

Swing! swing! butterflies wing 

Aloft toward cloud-flaked sky; 
Swing! swing! grasshoppers spring 

Before the flashing scythe. 

Sweet! sweet! the zephyrs meet, 

Mingle where clovers lie. 
Sweet! sweet! the steaming heat 

Withers the grasses dry. 

TWILIGHT HOUR 

A flash of silveiy wings, — swallows flying 

Above the grasses low; 
A glimmering of dewdrops, sunset dyeing 

Earth to roseate glow. 
Oh list! to whip-poor-will! night bird salutes thee, 

Beside the water's flow, 
Oh list! to whip-poor-will! love mate awaits thee, 

Where swaying rushes grow. 

A wave of silvery fog, light mists laving 

Tall grass in meadows low; 
A quivering of perfume, breezes waving 

Wildrose and lily blow, 
Oh list to whip-poor-will! night bird salutes thee, 

Beside the water's flow; 
Oh list to whip-poor-will! love mate awaits thee, 

Where rosy mallows grow. 



79 



THE EMPTY NEST 

Lightly rocking, 
Lightly rocking, 
Empty nest swings on the bough; 

Fast the autumn leaves are falling. 
Where are songbirds winging now ? 
Frosts have claimed the woodland maples, 

Golden, scarlet, flaming hues, 
Frosts have claimed the crimson sumachs. 
Tinting all with frozen dews. 
Softly swaying. 
Softly swaying, 
Empty nest swings on the bough, 

Swift the glowing leaves are dropping, 
Where are song birds flitting now ? 

WILDWOOD HAUNTS 

Hark! afar the hermit thrush. 
Anthem clear from underbrush. 
Hark! now hear the vireo sweet. 
Trilling from wild rose retreat. 
Both warbling a glad refrain, 
Both singing, " O come again." 

So, my heart interpreted 
Song of bird or lily head. 
Nodding bright, 'long forest trail 
" Wood nymphs" of the ferny trail 
Foxgloves, too, smile by the way. 
Orchis and pipsissewa. 
Star flowers luminous white 
All wood blossoms to give delight. 



80 



L oving nature, the woodland bee, 
Bird, flower, and whispering tree. 
Loving nature, these joys are thine, 
" Nature's loves" are all divine. 
All their joys I have not told 
For their joys are manifold. 
Of their lives I gladly sing 
Blithe as song bird of free wing. 



THE BLACK-CAPPED TITMOUSE 

Unmindful of the cold and falling snow 

The black-capped titmouse sang his wintery lay, 
Undaunted by the chilly winds that blow. 

He piped a cheery The a-day-day-day! 
Trilling saucy notes, seeming free from care, 

He fluttered from hedge to fence, from fence to 
tree. 
Looking o'er mossy bark for his morning fare 

Within crack or crevice, or bole to see 
A grub or worm, to quiet hunger's call. 

With a The-a-day-day-day! devoid of fear 
He sang again from an old stone wall. 

Viewing my lingering presence near 
Ere he fluttered down to the tangles of weeds, 

Peering through the snows, waving precious seeds. 
Scattering their treasures, for the titmouse's needs. 



8i 



THE CLOVER FIELDS 

Oh, for the fragrant stretch of meadows! 

By moss stonewalls to lie, 
To dream among the clover grasses, 

Where zephyrs croon and sigh — 
For I am weary. 

The air! the air! what sweet perfume 
The clovers toss from crimson bloom! 
Too soon they'll meet their new-mown doom 
In fragrant fields. 

The lark! the lark! what melody 
From out a billowy flowering sea. 
Too soon we'll miss their nesting glee 
In clover fields. 

The wind! the wind! what cooling breeze 
Light rocking busy bumble-bees 
On clover heads, with playful ease 
In blooming fields. 

At noon! at noon, will clovers yield, 
To mower's tread in fragrant field, 
Too soon the scythes their fate have sealed 
In sunny fields. 

The^bright, the bright, gay butterfly 
Will seek for sweets where flowers lie; 
Too soon, they'll find the grasses dry 
In new-mown fields. 



82 



AN APRIL DAY 

Come to the fragrant fields, and sun in the mild 
spring weather; 
The robins now are singing from hedge and apple 
tree, 
The balmy winds invite us, — let's roam the fields 
together, 
To seek the early violets,— blooming shy and free. 

Come, the happy brook is calling, through fringe of 
tasseled willow. — 
A rhythm of tinkling melody, — acknowledg- 
ment to spring; 
The yellow-throat is building in clump of rosy 
alders; 
Seeking twigs and withered grasses, joyful on the 
wing. 

The plowboy is whistling along the lengthening 
furrow; 
The stretch of steaming clod lies ready for the 
seed, 
The chipmunk, a-chattering, frisks from out his 
burrow. 
Bobolink has come again among the flag and 
reed. 



83 



OCTOBER DAYS 

Stilly falls the yellow leaf, 
Summer birds are flocking, 
Joyous Sittings out of sight, 
Winging southward in their flight; 
Cradle nests rock empty now, 
Swinging light on frosty bough. — 
Stilly falls the yellow leaf, 
Summer birds are flocking. 

Stilly falls the crimson leaf. 

Hounds on the ridge are baying. 
Scarlet sumachs flame the hill, 
Scarlet maples trace swamp rill; 
Cooling winds do sailing toss 
Thistle seed and milkweed floss, — 
Stilly falls the crimson leaf. 

Hounds 'long the ridge are baying. 

Stilly falls the russet leaf. 

Butternuts are dropping. 
O'er leaf rustlings to and fro. 
Chattering squirrels come and go, 
Katydids do shrilly call 
'Mong the purpling asters tall, — 
Stilly falls the russet leaf. 

Butternuts are dropping. 



84 



THE BROOK'S JOURNEY TO THE SEA 

Bubbling to the light from hillside spring, 
Beneath towering ledge where cool lichens cling, 
Gushing to the open in sparkling streams, 
'Mid rainbow flashes and misty gleams. 
Over rocky shelves and boulders to flow 
In foaming cataracts, to falls below. 

Under rustic bridges swift the waters glide, 
Rocking idle boats at their moorings tide, 
Winding through meadows, around wooded hill, 
Revolving the wheel of an old grist mill, — 
Tinkling softly, in musical treble. 
Over mossy stone and shining pebble. 

Gliding through pastures where buttercups grow, 
Between mossy banks where violets blow. 
Caressing fern brakes, through woodland dells, 
Where wood fairies swing in swaying hairbells, — 
Forever babbling water nymph lore 
To wild-tree life that haunt flowery shore, 
Onward journeying through salt marshes wide, 
A happy song lost in the sea's booming tide. 



85 



MIGRATION OF THE GOLDFINCH 

Oh, hark! Oh, hear! So sweet, so clear. 
The trills of wild canaries here. 
On graceful wing they gather near, 
Like bounding waves, the darlings dear — 

It is the time of summer o'er; 

Autumn lingers near the door. 

Come see and watch the airy fleet 
Come dipping down through hazy heat, 
To thistle tops to preen and eat. 
"Tee dee" they call in accents sweet — 

It is the time of summer o'er; 

Autumn lingers by the door. 

Now see them rise for southern flight! 
Soft yellow balls of living light; 
Gay twittering calls from birdlings bright 
Aerial chorus; blissful sight — 

It is the time of summer o'er; 

Autumn waits before the door. 

Too soon we'll miss their passings near; 
Their cheery trills to summer dear; 
Their golden tribute to the year; 
Ere blade and leaf and flower are sere — 

It is the time of summer o'er; 

Autumn stands within the door. 



86 



;?V:j| J.. 



Mnr 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




